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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972168">Spooky Drabble Compilation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Marlowe/pseuds/M_Marlowe'>M_Marlowe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:54:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Marlowe/pseuds/M_Marlowe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short "spooky" stories that are uninspired, experimental and basically the same thing you'd find on the r/nosleep subreddit. A way to combat writer's block and boredom, but thought someone might enjoy them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Cat Person Conditioning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>Alternative links:</strong>
</p><p><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/mmarlowe/art/The-Cat-Person-Conditioning-852385954">DeviantART</a> // <a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/40587413">Patreon</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some of you know what I'm talking about. The ones that own indoor cats certainly do. </p><p>It's after midnight. Maybe you're up late playing videogames, reading, or watching videos. Maybe you were woken up by thirst or you need a quick trip to the bathroom. You get up, not bothering with the light -<em> what for, it's just a minute</em> - and do what you need to do. On your way back you spot movement in the dark corner of the room, or at the end of the hallway. You freeze. Your muscles tighten, all your hairs stand on end, the fight or flight reflex kicks in. Adrenaline forces your heart to beat faster.</p><p>Then you turn on the light, and it's just your (possibly quite startled) cat standing over something he or she has knocked down. You sigh with relief, maybe lovingly call the cat a bastard and go on with your night.</p><p>We've all been there. We're naturally afraid of the dark. We can't see through it, and the uncertainty of what awaits in the depths of the inky void in combination with our over-reactive imagination only fuels the fear. We are terrified of the demons we make up in our own minds.</p><p>Owning an indoor cat doesn't make navigating the dark corners of our homes easy at first, because the first thing we think of in these situations isn't <em>"it's the cat,"</em> but <em>"the shape is real." </em>The instincts are oftentimes faster than logic. But we are highly adaptable creatures, and after months or years of living with our nocturnal friend we get less and less bothered by its nighttime shenanigans, and, eventually, we start to ignore them. They become background sounds, like the barking of our neighbours' dog, the ticking of the clock on the wall or the whirr of our computer fans. </p><p>I eventually got used to Richard running across the hallway in the dead of night, his solid black fur making him practically invisible. He was a decently large cat, but an eternal kitten on the inside, which meant endless energy for knocking things over and scaring my mum halfway to death.</p><p>The first few nights after we adopted him were difficult. I, myself, am a nocturnal creature, so when I wander the house it is completely silent and dark. I got up to get a drink. I didn't bother turning the lights on, as I can navigate the house by memory alone, and proceeded to almost step on Richard, who has decided that sitting in front of my closed bedroom door was a good idea. He scared me in similar ways more times than I'd bother to count, but, well...</p><p>I adapted.</p><p>When I heard a soft thump, or thought I saw a shadow moving, I'd tell myself "oh, it's just Richard" and ignore it. I no longer got scared of spotting a black blob sitting in the corner of my room, the patter of paws behind me or the gentle scratching of needle-sharp claws at my door. They became commonplace.</p><p>I've moved into a cheap flat around a month ago. I've left Richard at my parent's house, since it is quite a bit larger... and my mum wouldn't let me take him away. Besides the layout and the lack of my parents there's not really a big difference. My new neighbours' dog keeps barking, the new clock on the wall keeps ticking, the old laptop's fans keep whirring and the cat keeps scratching at my door.</p><p>I don't own a cat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Night Wanderer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little thing I wrote in under an hour for a friend who needed a reason to fear suspicious strangers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>Alternative links:</strong>
</p><p><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/mmarlowe/art/The-Night-Wanderer-856138113">DeviantART</a> // <a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/42125008">Patreon</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nights descend upon cities. People withdraw into their warm, dry and familiar flats and houses, abandoning the cold and uninviting streets. </p><p>You are still outside. You missed the bus, perhaps, or went out to walk your dog before bedtime. The streets are empty.</p><p>A glimpse of movement in your peripheral catches your attention. You turn to look.</p><p>A stranger. Man, tall, slim, engulfed in shadows, casually strolling through the night. Heading the same direction as you.</p><p>You cross the road, just to be sure. You take a turn. Look around and - he's there, again. Same distance, same direction.</p><p>No matter how fast or slow you walk, how many turns you take, how many times you cross the deserted street - he's there. You stop and he does as well. You speed up, so does he. You never see his face.</p><p>Minutes pass. You're getting closer to your home. You try to check on your unwanted follower discreetly. </p><p>Oh, God, he's so much closer.</p><p>Your heart skips a beat as you pick up your pace. You practically run towards the door. You can't hear the man's shoes hitting the pavement, but you feel his presence right behind you.</p><p>Somehow you get inside. You turn around in the safety of the building and look out through the glass.</p><p>He's there. A black silhouette of a man, obscured by shadows that shouldn't be there, standing perfectly still directly in front of the entry.</p><p>You look more closely for the first time. You notice the proportions are... off. The arms appear to be a bit too long. The legs - ankles bent at a strange angle. His face is hidden by the dark, and you find yourself wondering if he even has one.</p><p>You take a few cautionary steps back. He remains. Unmoving. Like a poisonous flower, a realisation blooms in the back of your mind.</p><p>It's not human at all.</p><p>And it will go hungry tonight.</p>
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